"You've got to be kidding."
"No."
"Who?"
Miller smiled.
"You already know her."
Noah's expression changed.
"Maya?"
Miller nodded.
Noah stared at him.
"You're putting us against each other?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I need to know whether you can fight someone you respect."
Noah didn't answer.
Miller continued.
"And I need to know whether she can trust you."
Noah looked toward the empty mat.
The challenge was no longer about winning.
It was about whether he could become the man his father wanted him to be.
Three weeks later, the arena was packed.
Hundreds of spectators filled the seats.
Coaches walked along the edges.
Athletes warmed up.
Cameras recorded every match.
Noah stood backstage.
His hands were wrapped.
His father's old gloves were inside his bag.
Maya stood several feet away.
Neither spoke.
Coach Miller approached.
"You ready?"
Noah nodded.
Miller looked at him.
"Remember."
Noah waited.
"You're not fighting an enemy."
Noah nodded.
"I'm fighting an opponent."
"Good."
Maya smiled.
"He's learning."
Noah looked at her.
"Slowly."
Miller stepped away.
The announcer called Noah's name.
The crowd cheered.
Noah walked toward the mat.
His opponent was waiting.
Not Maya.
A fighter from another academy.
Big.
Fast.
Aggressive.
The match began.
Noah moved differently than he had three weeks earlier.
He didn't rush.
He watched.
The opponent attacked.
Noah defended.
Another attack.
Counter.
The crowd grew louder.
Then the opponent lost balance.
Noah had an opening.
He could finish.
Instead, he stepped back.
The referee noticed.
Miller smiled.
The opponent looked confused.
Noah said:
"Get up."